


Cigarette Smoke and Shattered Mirrors

by QueenoftheProcrastination



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Dirty Talk, F/M, Sexual Acrobatics, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheProcrastination/pseuds/QueenoftheProcrastination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz singer Elena Trevelyan realizes the handsome man standing at the back of the club is a cop. When she confronts him, she finds Knight Captain Rutherford has a proposition for her that she can't refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarette Smoke and Shattered Mirrors

“ _Though I dream in vain_  
_In my heart it will remain_  
 _My stardust melody_  
 _The memory of love's refrain_ ”

Elena finished her song, crooning into the stand microphone, her emerald gaze focused on the big, blond cop standing at the back of the smoke filled room. As the flourish of the brass band behind her mingled with the audience’s applause, she bowed and blew a kiss into the crowd of tables and dancers before heading backstage. Mr. C had only hired her the early set; Miss Nightingale would be coming on later. She was the real crowd pleaser.

Elena knew the man was a copper the second he walked into the club. He was wound all tight, not like a man who wanted to let go with jazz and liquor, but like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even the relaxed state of his suit, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and jacket slung over a shoulder so his tweed vest was bare, wasn’t enough to hide the shrewd way his eyes followed every sudden movement; despite being nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, he was still a sight to behold, with the light spilling shadows along his strong, stubbled jaw and high cheekbones.

She hurried through the dark maze backstage into her dressing room. Though she never changed out of her glitzy costume to walk the floor, she wanted to make sure her makeup hadn’t melted under the heavy spotlights. Her silver sequined dress sparkled in the dressing room mirror like the stardust of her last song as she applied another coat of deep red lipstick. Now that her set was over, Mr. C liked it if she moved around the floor and flirted with the customers. Most of the men here had dolls and wives to boot, but they still liked squeeze her ass when she walked by. Sometimes they tipped her, or bought her dinner, so it wasn’t all bad.

As she waltzed onto the floor, Elena plucked a cocktail from the bar, unconcerned with what it happened to be. She tried to stick to two drinks a night--although working at the speakeasy brought her as many drinks as she wanted--and if she didn’t like it, all the better. Making her way through the crowd, she took a sip and grimaced. _Vermouth, definitely a two drink night._ She paused, surveying the room over the rim of her glass, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from seeking out the cop once more. He hadn’t moved from his spot leaning against a column at the back of the room, but his gaze was no long focused on the stage. Instead he scanned the crowd milling around, completely unaffected by the gay atmosphere.

She would bet her gold lavalier that he was watching her too, though it was hard to tell in the dim interior of the room.

As she passed an over-sized round table shrouded in blush grey cigar smoke, a pair of large hands shot around her waist, pulling her down onto someone’s lap. She went down with a shriek, and almost threw her drink in her unknown groper’s face. Luckily for him, she recognized those hands not a moment before she had her glass raised to splash..

“Bull! You know you’re not supposed to touch the merchandise!” She teased, pressing a quick kiss to his scarred cheek and rubbing the curve of one horn.

“Kadan, you know I have a weakness for redheads,” the large qunari chuckled above her before returning her quick kiss, one of his giant hands gently enveloping the entire side of her face.

Elena grinned. Bull was harmless (to her), but she very much appreciated his show of affection--it keep the other men in the room from getting too handsy. Bull did security work for Mr. C, not at the club, but elsewhere--Elena wasn’t technically supposed to know about it, but she and Bull had been neighbors since she first arrived in this rotten city, and he had gotten her a job in the club after scaring off a persistent admirer.

Elena pushed up on Bull’s shoulders, and he let her go. He was saying something about another party taking place at a private house, but she wasn’t paying attention. As she stood, she noticed Mr. C’s floor enforcer, the dark-haired Mr. Samson, surveying the room--if he saw her in Bull’s lap, she’d be disciplined. She was supposed to let the customer’s flirt and touch, but she wasn’t supposed to act overly familiar with any of them. _The fantasy must be maintained._

She watched, her heart jumping to her throat, as Mr. Samson’s eyes narrowed in on the cop. She knew what would happen to him if any of Mr. C’s goons figured out what he was doing here. _A Starkhaven smile, if he’s lucky_. She grimaced at the thought of what would happen if he _wasn’t_ lucky.

“Excuse me, Bull, I’ve got to see a man about a pair of shoes,” she murmured, already moving towards the blond man.

Her feet moved faster than her brain, and she arrived before him a moment before Mr. Samson did. She didn’t know why she was helping him--honestly, if Samson or Mr. C thought she was working with the cops, she was a dead woman, not matter that it wasn’t true. But something about this man drew her in, and she found she couldn’t leave him to the wolves.

He turned at her sudden approach, eyes flaring as he took in her short, sleek gown and vampy lipstick. The air between them felt heavy, laden with something she couldn’t quite define. A few feet away, Mr. Samson closed in, and Elena did the first thing she could think of. She threw her arms around her copper’s neck, a big smile plastered on her lips.

“William! Oh, I haven’t seen you in _months!_ Finally you visit your baby sister!” She cried, loud enough for those nearby to hear.

His hard body pressed against hers, and she was surrounded by his warm, masculine scent--cloves, tobacco, and pomade. His posture was rigid against her, but he must have realized it was in his best interests to play along, as half a beat later, she felt his strong arms wrap around her waist, engulfing her in his embrace and making her feel tiny.

“Mind tellin’ me what’s going on, dollface?” He whispered in her ear, his warm breath fanning against her neck and making shivers run down her spine at his smooth Fereldan accent.

“Later,” she murmured back, pulling away but keeping her arms around his neck.

Maker but he was tall. He towered over her, even in her heels, his broad shoulders blocking out the crowded, noisy hall behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Samson hovered just beyond her boy in blue, appraising the situation with a hawkish look in his eyes.

“Come on, brother mine,” she cried impulsively, linking their hands and tugging him towards backstage. “I’ll show you my dressing room!”

As she led him through the back hallways, Elena couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt to hold this man’s hand. It was big and strong, like the rest of him, but he didn’t hold too tight, nor too loose. His skin was warm and dry, though a little rough. She wondered what it would feel like against her bare skin elsewhere--running down her stomach, cupping her breasts, and stroking between her legs.

Shivering, she pushed the thought aside. It definitely wouldn’t do to be caught canoodling with a man she’d just told half the club was her brother.

Elena shot a coy glance back at him over her shoulder. _Thank the Maker he_ isn’t _my brother_. Just the sight of him was enough to make her pulse quicken and her mouth water. He definitely made her acutely aware that she was a woman, and that he could do things to her that would make her see stars.

She pushed open the door to her dressing room, and closed it quickly behind him before wedging her chair under the handle to keep anyone from entering. The room was small--really more of closet than a proper dressing room, hence her lack of lock. Elena had covered the brick walls with newspaper and magazine clippings.  Her vanity dominated one wall. Opposite it was a small chest of drawers. Between those two pieces of furniture, there was hardly enough room for the both of them to stand.

When she turned around, the man had his arms crossed over his front, the white fabric of his dress shirt hugging his chest and biceps. “I’ll say again, what, _exactly_ , is this about doll?”

Elena sighed and pushed her raging hormones aside to match the hard look in his eye and crossed her arms over her chest in mimicry. “If Mr. Samson had figured out you’re a cop, you’d be luck to get out of here with a rearranged face.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening, causing her to admire their most peculiar shade of honey-gold. She’d never seen eyes like that before, warm and rich; they made her feel like she was wrapped in sunshine. When he  managed to speak, his voice was hoarse.

“How do you know I’m a cop?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you just told me. But in all seriousness, you stick out like a Chantry Sister at a whorehouse.” Elena stepped towards him, putting them only inches apart in the small space. Grinning, she walked her fingers up his chest, flicking the buttons of his vest as she spoke her next words, taking satisfaction in the blush that graced his high, angular cheeks at her touch. “Too buttoned up, too shiny, too good. Certainly not sleazy enough to be in a place like this.”

What drove her to provoke him, she couldn’t say, but there was a part of her crying out to unbutton him, to  _tarnish_ him. To see what happened when that rigidness shattered. She’s seen a glimpse of it when she’d denounced him as a cop, and she wanted more.

And she got her answer when his hands suddenly slapped against the brick wall on either side of her head, making her jump as he effectively caged her, his big body crowing her, pressing into her space and enveloping her with his heat and scent. Elena swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest so hard she feared he could feel it.

“How do you know I’m good?” He growled. “I could be very, very bad for you, doll.”

Andraste’s knickers, he smelt good; all Elena wanted to do was bury her face in his neck. How could this man affect her so? She had only just laid eyes on him not a half an hour ago. _What the hell was wrong with me? He’s a cop. He’ll as soon as toss me in the slammer as help me._  Her gaze skitted away from his face, betraying her sudden uncertainty at his presence.

At her trepidation, he sighed and pushed off of the wall, taking his warmth and bulk from where it had settled over her. Elena watched silently as he ran his hand through his hair, mussing the carefully pomaded locks, until a few unruly curls fell over his forehead and into his eyes. After a moment he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up. The sight of his throat working to take a deep drag made her stomach clench tight, and she licked her lips.

The man frowned. “I guess I should have offered you one,” he said somewhat apologetically.

Disappointment at his sudden retreat flooded her. Maybe she shouldn’t question her interest in him; surely he didn’t seem to be questioning himself in that regard. it was better to seize pleasure when she could, wasn’t it? Who knew if she’d live to see another day. Her confidence renewed, Elena leaned forward with a sultry smile and  plucked the cigarette from between his lips, taking a deep drag.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The man stared at her mouth, his eyes tracing over the shape of her lips, making the cigarette tremble between her fingers.

She blew out a long plume of smoke before handing it back to him. “So, handsome. You got a name?”

He started, his gaze breaking suddenly from her mouth. “Knight Captain Rutherford,” he paused, clearing his throat and taking the proffered cigarette. “Cullen Rutherford.”

After a moment, he pulled a shiny brass badge from his vest pocket and, flipping it open, showed it to her. Elena leaned forward to examine it, hoping he was taking advantage of the great view of her cleavage her temporary position offered him. After a moment, she straightened up.

“And I know who you are,” he continued ignoring the fact she hadn’t introduced herself. “Elena Trevelyan, a dancer from Ostwick.”

“Well Knight Captain, I suggest you get out of this club before Mr. C has your face slit from ear to ear,” Elena purred as if he hadn’t shot straight through her carefully maintained facade.

He barely blinked at her warning.

“No can do, darlin’,” he replied easily, his eyes traveling the length of her body once more. “But maybe you can help me.”

Elena raised an eyebrow at his blatant insinuation, her curiosity piqued. “I would have to be pretty stupid to get in bed with a copper. And I’m no dummy.”

Cullen stamped his cigarette butt out in her ashtray and took a step towards her, once again crowding into her space. He cupped her cheek, his rough fingers curling along her jaw and into her hair.

“Dollface, getting in bed with me wouldn’t have anything to do with this deal.” As he spoke, he ghosted the tip of his nose and mouth along her throat, sending a flurry of shivers down her spine. “Think of it as a bonus.”

She gave a breathy laugh, desperate to cover the weak-kneed way he made her feel. “Bonus or not, I’m still not keen.”

His lips feathered over her pulse point, his stubble creating a delicious burn against her skin. In response, she gripped his waist, pulling him close.

“I can protect you. From both ends.” He whispered in her ear, punctuating each word with a kiss. “Keep Mr. C’s goons away from you, and make sure you’re not arrested when this rat’s nest goes down.”

Elena sighed at the onslaught of his lips, and slid her palms up the broad expanse of his chest, her knees shaking from the warmth of his breath at her ear and the heavy heat of his hand at her waist. “No one can make that promise.”

“I can.” He murmured, his lips brushing her jaw, his teeth nipping. “Trust me.”

Elena arched her back, desperately seeking more contact with his lips, his hands, the hard contours of his body. Desperate to believe the words he painted against her skin.

“Convince me, handsome,” she heard herself challenge, a needy ache building between her legs overriding all other thoughts.

With a growl, Cullen nipped her throat, his lips hungry and seeking as they traveled along her jaw towards her lips. His fingers tangled into the wild red curls haloing her face, tugging her head back so that he had access to her mouth. He hovered mere inches from her, pausing, his gaze searching. Elena fingers dug into his broad shoulders, the ache between her legs throbbing as the moment stretched, her anticipation building. Just as she thought she couldn’t stand waiting one more second, his lips crashed down on hers bruisingly hard.

She gasped in delight as pleasure flooded her body, and he took full advantage of her parted lips, his tongue seeking deep. His free hand snaked under her hips, boosting her up against the wall and urging her legs to wrap around his waist. She clung to him, drawing him into the softness of her body. Elena could feel his thick erection pressing against her center, hard and insistent, tantalizing her with what it would feel like for him to be fully sheathed inside.

One big hand slid down the side of her neck, skimming her breasts to grip her hips. Calloused fingertips pushed her skirt up roughly, snapping her garters in his determination open her honeyed heat to him. Cullen moved his lips from her own, breaking their kiss in order to suckle and nip the tender skin of her collarbone. Elena threw her head back, relishing the feeling of him pinning her to the cold brick. She could see them reflected back at her in her vanity mirror. His large body covered her much smaller frame, her bare thighs anchored around his waist. She watched the hypnotic rhythm of his hips rock against her center, teasing her with what was to come.

She ran her nails down his back, relishing the way he shuddered against her. Lower and lower, until she could grip his ass, growling in delight when she found it as firm as it looked.

“Wicked minx,” he rasped, catching the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

“You have no idea, handsome.”

Her words lit under his skin, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath, his heart hammering so hard it felt as if it beat within her chest. With a snarl, he lifted her completely, his cock pressed achingly tight against the juncture of her thighs as he stepped back from the wall and turned. Cullen swept her across the surface of her vanity, sending perfume bottles, hairpins, and tins of powder crashing to the floor. His lips met hers once again, as his hands quickly stripped off his vest and suspenders. Elena ran her hands eagerly down his chest, pulling the bottom of his shirt up from his trousers. With a quick efficiency bordering on desperation he undid his zipper, pushing his trousers down enough to free his heavy cock.

Elena broke their kiss, her breath coming in heavy pants as she reached down and stroked him, her fingers unable to meet around the base of his shaft. 

“Sweet Andraste,” she swore, taking in the size of him.

The moment her hand closed around his thick length, Cullen’s eyes rolled closed, and he leaned his head against her shoulder.

“That’s it, doll. Stroke me,” he commanded, closing one large hand over her smaller one, showing her exactly how to touch him. “That’s my dick in your hand, honey. Look at you, stroking me so perfect. _Fuck_.”

She whimpered, the ache between her legs growing at his wicked words. Elena could feel slick desire against her thighs, and she desperately wanted him inside of her. She shifted on the vanity, legs spreading wider in a silent plea. In response, his hand moved from his cock, to slide up her thigh, pushing the heavily beaded fabric of her dress until he could cup her, the heat from his hand mingling with the soaking heat of her silken panties.

“Is this what you need, darlin’? My hand right here?” He crooned against her lips, his fingers seeking and slipping between her folds, teasing and stroking, but not entering her. “You want my fingers inside of you?”

She whimpered in response, her hand squeezing his cock in a silent plea.

He chuckled, his hips rocking in her hand. “Tell me, doll. Say ‘Cullen I want your fingers in my cunt.’”

“Cullen,” she gasped, her free hand gripping his forearm tight.

“Say it,” he urged.

“Please,” she panted, the way his fingertips just brushed over her bundle of nerves without bringing her the relief she craved. “Please. I want your fingers in my cunt.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Cullen pressed two long digits deep inside of her. She cried out, her body clenching around him. He quickly pressed his hand over her mouth so no one would overhear them. Working his fingers slowly in and out of her, he stroked his thumb over her clit in time with his rhythm. 

She was so close, _so close_ , and she arched against him, the first flutterings of her orgasm coming to life deep in her stomach. Just when she was about to tip over the edge, he pulled his fingers away.

Elena cried out in protest into his hand, her eyes flying open to accuse him of leaving her at the edge. The look on his face stilled her anger; his cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen from kissing her. Single-minded lust burned in his eyes.

“Sorry, doll,” he growled, completely unapologetic. “But the first time you come for me, my cock is going to buried inside of you.”

“Then what are you waiting for, handsome?” she urged, pushing his hand away from her face.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for another scorching kiss. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and everything she’d ever wanted. Rough palms traveled up her thighs, stroking her bare skin before he roughly shoved her legs apart. A moment later she felt the broad head of his cock press against her entrance, the tip wet with his own precum. He stroked up and down her folds, pushing inside of her just a breath more each time he stroked down, but not enough to bring relief to her burning desires.

Elena gasped at the pulses of need radiating out from her body. She kissed him deeper, her tongue tangling with his as she ran her fingers through his hair, her other arm hooked around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“You’re soaked for me,” he groaned, tearing away her silk panties to expose her.

Cool air hit her flushed, heated lips, and she gasped, “ _please_!”

He must have decided he’d teased her enough, because he entered her with a snap of his hips, filling her so suddenly the entire vanity rocked against the brick wall, creaking precariously and sending more makeup crashing to the floor. His thick shaft throbbed deep inside of her, stretching her slick walls as she squirmed, trying to accommodate his girth.  

His lips pressed against the corner of her jaw, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin as he began to move in and out of of her. “Are you keen now, doll? Keen for me?”

His mouth painted a trail of fire along her throat, desire radiating out from each kiss, bite, and suck. Elena pressed her face against his shoulder, biting him through his shirt while she clawed at the buttons near his collar. She was desperate to touch him, to feel his bare skin under her palms and to lick the sweat off his chest.

After a moment of struggling, she gave up and ripped his shirt open, popping buttons in her eagerness.

“You owe me a new shirt,” he teased, sucking at the skin below her ear.

“And you owe me new garters and panties,” she returned, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. 

Her lips met his bare skin as she held him flush against her, the rhythmic rocking of his hips building pleasure, spreading it through her body wherever they touched. Her hands traced his back, encountering raised scars and muscular dips. She stroked his spine, her hands moving ever downward, until she gripped his ass again, pulling him deep within her.

Cullen pulled down on her dress, tugging the fabric until it ripped.

“Add a new dress to your tab too, handsome,” she panted.

“Doll, I’ll buy you as many dresses as you want as long as I can suck on your plump, perfect tits,” he growled, pressing his face between her breasts, licking the valley of cleavage before pushing her bodice down further.

Stubble scratched across her sensitive skin, making her shudder and clench around his shaft. He cupped one breast, kneading it with this fingers, his mouth descending over the other, until he suckled the tight bud of her nipple deep into his mouth. She cried out as she clutched his head to her body, and he turned his attention to her other breast. A strangled moan bubbled up from her throat; she could feel her release building just out of reach, and she desperately wanted him to take her there.

Arching her back, she scooted closer to the edge of the vanity, wedging herself further down his thick length, until she could feel his heavy bollocks smack against her ass each time he thrust. His mouth worked her breasts, suckling, nipping, and licking the tight buds until she saw stars. Another wanton moan tore from her throat, her head falling back as her vision blacked around the edges. Her cunt clenched down on him as pleasure exploded through her, consuming her body, engulfing her limbs. Dimly, she was aware of the mirror shattering behind.

Glass rained down on her hair and shoulders, and Cullen swore. Teeth clenched he lifted her off the vanity top, his hands gripping her hips as he drove her up and down on his cock, filling her, splitting her, with each pump of his powerful hips. Elena clung to his shoulders, riding out her orgasm as he barreled towards his own release.

With a deep groan that she could feel rumble in his chest, Cullen came, his cock throbbing deep inside of her as he pulled her down on his shaft one last time. He stumbled back against the door, his lips seeking her’s as he spilled himself over and over inside of her. They slumped to the floor in an awkward tangle of limbs, but Elena kept a hold of him, kissing him with all she had.

Eventually the rocking of their hips stopped and their kissing slowed, until it was a deep, lazy glide of lips on lips. His hands cradled her hips, fingers stroking her skin as she ran her hands up and down his chest. When they finally broke their embrace, Elena rested her head against his shoulder.

“Alright, handsome. You’ve convinced me. I’ll help you.”


End file.
